


Missing Rain.

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Drugged Sex, M/M, Morning After, Sex Pollen, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: Dr Rush and Colonel Young exposed to something, attempting to not do anything in the hallways, and waking up the next morning together post-drugged sex.
Relationships: Nicholas Rush/Everett Young
Kudos: 28





	Missing Rain.

**Author's Note:**

> idk man sometimes you write sex pollen. its 3am this isn't alpha read and if it don't post it my computer will keep it forever, so enjoy

* * *

* * *

The wall was cold against his burning skin when he was pushed against it, blessedly cold. It took precious seconds to realize his shirt was being pulled up by relentless hands, sliding up inch by inch until most of his back was bare to Destiny’s wall. Young was trying to undress him, headless of the fact that they were still in the hall way, and anyone could walk in. Rush twisted his face to the side to break the long, sloppy kiss that had carried them so recklessly down the halls.

“ _Not_ \- not here, _wait_ , just wait,” he almost begged him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he still had a sense this was a terrible idea – that perhaps, this _was not their own_ idea. But the relentless need to touch Colonel Young had possessed his hands, and they itched and burned every moment he didn’t have them pressed against his skin, his clothes, or stroking through his blissfully silky hair.

Taste was the worst; once he’d had a taste of him, he physically couldn’t stop himself from pulling him down for more. Turning Young’s jaw with his thumb, lost in the feel of the faint scrape of his five o’clock shadow, and press their foreheads together, lips wet and mouths open as they panted.

He knew he’d said something about them needing to move. But it had felt like a life time ago; suns may have been born in the time they’d taken to kiss each other breathless, and Young’s hands had tugged off Rush’s shirts, discarding them on the floor.

He should have let him do that sooner, the heat from his hands was a counterpoint to the cold wall. He _liked_ Young’s hand’s, they were large and warm, and when Rush cleaned his hand in Young’s hair, the Colonel would stroke them down his back with a groan.

 _Not in the hallway_.

Dammit. Right.

He’d been doing something.

With an effort, he pulled the Colonel off him, tightening his hand in his curls until it was painful, and Young backed off with a hiss.

All his skin felt _immediately_ on fire, but Rush tried to hold onto the lucidity.

“Not in the hallway.” He felt like knives were gently kissing his skin when he looked away from Young’s flushed, sweaty face, and down the hall. There was a doorway _right there_. “There. _There,_ take me there.”

He hadn’t meant it literally, but as soon as he said the words, a look of relief washed over the Colonel, and he scooped his hands down further, gripping Rush by the backs of his thighs. Rather than fight both Young, and whatever was clouding his own mind, he went with it, and looped his arm around his neck, knees clenched around Young’s waist.

They stumbled, no doubt his weight too much for the Colonel’s bad knee, but they made it to the door, and Rush reached out to push the door button as Young buried his face against the side of his neck, his mouth a hot distraction while he licked and nibbled. But they were inside, and as soon as the door was shut and locked behind them, whatever fortitude had been holding Rush’s mind together scattered like dandelion seeds in a stiff breeze.

They didn’t make it to the bed. There was a couch, and it was decently large; Young pushed him down on it, and crawled between his legs to continue his assault on Rush’s neck, one hand on the inside of his thigh to shove his legs wider, the other propped beside his head, holding himself up.

His weight still pushed him back into the soft cushions, and their combined heat was making Rush’s skin slick with sweat. He tugged at Young’s jacket, unable to reach the zipper pull.

“Take this off,” he demanded, arching up to press more of his body into the heat of Young’s, only distantly disgusted at the way his skin stuck to the shiny material of the couch. His shoe heel dragged along the ground, and he used the scant leverage to twist their groins together.

Their twinned groans filled the room. Young pushed himself up enough to get a hand between their bodies, dragging the zipper of his jacket down hard enough to make the teeth cry out in protests, and immediately leaned back into the scientist’s space, crowding him with his wider shoulders and heavier frame. Rush struggled to pull the thick fabric down off his shoulders while Young’s arms were still busy, and eventually gave up, simply shoving his shirt up from the bottom.

It must have been uncomfortable, because Young actually stopped touching him long enough to strip it, and the shirt off, throwing them to the side before descending on Rush like a starved man on a feast.

Everywhere they touched felt good, hot and alive. He felt like he was made up of lights and colours rather than flesh, dragging his hands down Young’s broad back, he imagined disturbing the lights that made up the colonel, until they both swirled together.

Everything became rather indistinct after that.

_The next morning_.

His neck _ached_. It felt like it had the last time Young had tried to strangle him, only worse some how – it wasn’t a thin band of pain, but his entire throat and shoulders that stung whenever he shifted. Something heavy lay against him, warm, and despite his bodily discomforts – of which he was slowly noting _many_ – Rush was loathed to move.

Warm was not a word he would use to describe Destiny. He was willing to lay there and keep his eyes closed so he didn’t have to face the reality of the situation for a minute or two longer, if it meant staying in the cocoon of warmth that he was slowly starting to realize was Colonel Young’s arms.

Most of the previous night was a haze, but Rush remembered enough of it to flush with embarrassment. It helped that they had both been dosed, and entirely out of their heads, but he was vividly aware of his own nakedness beneath the covers, and of the way Young’s own naked body was curved against his back, Young’s knee pressed between Rush’s, their feet tangled together in the relaxed intimacy of the sleeping.

He hadn’t noticed at first, but he had his fingers laced with the hand Colonel Young had wrapped around his shoulder, tucking Rush close against him in his sleep.

A deep, slow sigh from the man behind him, his warm breath washing across Rush’s bare shoulder, and fluttering stray strands of his hair.

“We can get up, if you want.” The soft rumble of Young’s voice brought an echo of remembered sensation to his skin, and goosebumps broke out across his arms. He stayed heavy and relaxed against Rush. “Or,” Young continued, no haste in his sleep thick voice, “We can close our eyes, and go back to sleep until _my_ alarm goes off, and decide what to do then.”

Rush hesitated.

“….Why your alarm? Why not mine?” he asked, eventually.

“Because it’s my day off, and I didn’t set a damn alarm.”

He sounded smug.

The arm around Rush pulled him tighter, and Young laid a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. “Go back to sleep, Rush.”

He lay, tense and uncertain, for long painful heartbeats. Young waited on his decision, drowsy but alert; his thumb rubbed across the side of Rush’s hand in an absent-minded gesture of comfort, and with a slow, shuddering breath, Rush allowed himself to relax back into his warm weight.

“Just until the alarm.” He muttered, willing to feign ignorance later. Young chuckled, but didn’t call him out on it.


End file.
